


one last dream

by backbiter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backbiter/pseuds/backbiter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only one thing keeps Theon from falling apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one last dream

**Author's Note:**

> This story happens shortly after the red wedding. Spoilers for asos and adwd. Mentions of violence, mentions of character death.  
> This is my first story written in english, after a long time. Sorry for any typos you may find:3  
> I do not own the characters, I do not own ASOIAF.

He woke up screaming. At least he thinks he did.

It was hard to distinguish real life from the nightmares. The pain was endless. The pain was constant.

Everything was dark now, and it was all fading. _I must remember_ , he thinks, _I must remember my name. I am Theon Greyjoy, lord of the iron islands. I have a sister named Asha, and two dead brothers. And Robb. He could never forget about Robb._

“Reek,” A soft voice, and just as deathly, interrupts his thinking.

He did not heard him coming. He probably never left. The master enjoys watching him sleep, and taunt him about his whispers when he wakes.

_He is no master of mine. I must not forget. I am Theon, my name is Theon. I am the heir to the iron islands, and I have a brother named Robb._

“Snow,” He replies, tilting his chin up. Thinking of Robb gives him strenght. He can still come. _He can come, and I can explain, and he can give me a merciful death. Perhaps even forgiveness. Please, please come. I have Robb, I have a brother named Robb Stark._

“Ever so defiant, lord Greyjoy.” Ramsay joked, with a smirk in place, though there was a hint of anger in his voice. “And I assume you know the price for that. Skin from the finger of a traitor,” He smiles “or perhaps a whole hand this time? I could flay the whole thing, slowly, ever so slowly, until you beg me to chop it off, like the rat you are. Sounds like a good Idea to you, Reek?” He comes closer, a knife in hand, and a devilish grin on his wormy lips.

He places the knife on Theon’s cheek, and uses his other hand to tilt his chin up. “I could flay your whole face, Reek. Could disfigure you piece by piece. Would you obey then? Would you remember?”

I remember.

“Who are you, Reek?”

_Asha, Balon, Rodrik, Maron, Ned, Catelyn, and Robb. Robb Stark. I remember._

“Theon Greyjoy,” courage takes over him, and is all Robb. Because Robb Will come.

“I am the heir to the iron islands. And you are nothing but a northern bastard,” He spits “And once Robb comes he will arrest you, and take care of you, as the sick monster you are. And your ‘father’ will probably clap his hand while he does it.”

He waits for the blow. For a slap, and for flaying, and for pain. All together. Instead, Ramsay laughs.

“Robb Stark,” He says tediously, ever so happy “You are waiting for him. Oh, how very _sweet_ of you, Reek. To believe him in such way. And how must you love him, huh, to mumble his name night after night. Does it gives you hope? He comes, and you tell him the truth about his brothers, and how I am to blame for the orphans’s deaths. And you go back to his ranks, and I die, and you two can live happily ever after on whatever is left of that home of his. Is that what you want?”

_I don’t expect him to forgive me. I want him to kill me, because I dont want to die by your hands, not like this, not like what you want me to be. And I want to see him, one last time. Just one more._

Ramsay put his lips on Theon’s ears, and whispers, ever so gently “Your king in the north is no more, Reek.” He can feel the smile growing on his face “Nothing more than the head of a Wolf, and a cold body beneath it. You can thank my father for that.”

A lie. It must be a lie. He wouldn’t. Robb is all he has left. But he knows it is true. A cruel smile can only be fake until a certain point.

And then he screams.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
He dreams of red locks, falling gently on his face. He dreams of hands on his chest, and kisses on his forehead.

He dreams of a different time. When life was worthy. He doesn’t remember. Not anymore. But on this dream he is happy, and so he enjoys all of it.

_I would have forgiven you. I know I would have. But you must fight, since you can still save what I no longer can._

I do not want to wake up, he thinks. I do not want to remember. There is nothing worth going back to. There are just shadows of a future I have thorned to pieces.  


I must become whatever else is left. A name, I have a name, and I must remember it. It rhymes with weak.


End file.
